


knot without you

by Deisderium



Series: would smell as sweet [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: A Mere Frisson of Angst, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, But Mostly Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Husbands, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bites, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Battle of Azzano (Marvel), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Reunions, Rutting, The Serum Changed Steve's Designation, and feelings, battle husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22701928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deisderium/pseuds/Deisderium
Summary: "I have to," Steve said stubbornly, even though Peggy hadn't tried to discourage him, not yet."You heard Phillips," she said, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "He's probably dead.""There are a lot of men and women of the 107th who might not be," he said, and then, because she knew him too well: "He's my alpha.""He was." She wasn't trying to be cruel, he knew that; but he slapped a hand to his neck, where the mating bite used to be, and glared at her."It's all right, Steve. I know a man with a plane."*In which Steve goes to get his man from the Hydra factory, and Bucky discovers that Steve's a little different from the last time he saw him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: would smell as sweet [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600642
Comments: 74
Kudos: 717





	knot without you

**Author's Note:**

> WHOOOOOO i feel like I've been writing this one forever! This story exists solely because I thought of the extremely dorky pun of a title and then had to write something for it. Many thank yous to [spookybuckies](https://twitter.com/spookybuckies) for encouragement and being awesome. <3 <3 <3
> 
> Happy Val, Gal, and Palentine's day!!! Hope you enjoy <3

"I have to," Steve said stubbornly, even though Peggy hadn't tried to discourage him, not yet.

"You heard Phillips," she said, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "He's probably dead."

"There are a lot of men and women of the 107th who might not be," he said, and then, because she knew him too well: "He's my alpha."

"He was." She wasn't trying to be cruel, he knew that; but he slapped a hand to his neck, where the mating bite used to be, and glared at her. "It's all right, Steve. I know a man with a plane." 

~o~

The factory was a nightmare in ways he didn't expect. He could smell things so much better now. He could smell the suffering of the people he freed from the cages. He could smell—

He could smell Bucky.

After the cages were open and the others were free, Steve followed his nose straight to his alpha, and it was worse, so much worse than he was he was expecting. Bucky was strapped down to a table, and he smelled of blood, and Steve had an eidetic memory now, he couldn't forget, he would never forget the exact placement of the scrapes on Bucky's face, never forget the exact arrangement of the creepy machines around him, never forget what it felt like to wonder what exactly had been done to him beneath his torn green sweater, whether it was safe to move him, because he had to move him regardless.

Then Bucky's nostrils flared, and he smiled even before he opened his eyes. "Steve?" His eyes took a second to focus. 

"I thought you were dead," Steve said, untying the straps that bound his hands.

"I thought you were smaller," Bucky muttered, his gaze raking from Steve's head to his toes and back again. His nostrils flared again. "Steve...?" His eye rolled back and he slumped back against the table.

"Nope," Steve said. "We've got to get going, pal."

"You smell different."

Steve shifted his shoulder to get it beneath Bucky's armpit and heaved him up into a fireman's carry. "I know, I know. We can talk about it once we get out of here."

It was different and strange to lean against Bucky instead of the other way around, but Steve could see more of Bucky coming back into his expression as he walked, even as they walked further and further into hell.

~o~

The factory was nothing but smoking ruins behind them when the first wave hit him. He stopped, Bucky still leaning against him, and bent over for a second, panting. It was like hunger or sickness, or dying of thirst, except it wasn't like any of those. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before. It was like the cramp of an oncoming heat, but not at all like that. It was like—

The man with the mustache—Dugan? He was pretty sure—took a deep breath, then wrinkled his nose. He turned towards Bucky and took a deep whiff. Bucky shoved his face away irritably.

"Both of you?" Dugan worked his mouth and spat. "All right, fine. Fine. We'll get you back to camp, there are service omegas or the medical team can—"

"No," Bucky said. His voice was rough and not altogether there. He sounded like someone had taken sandpaper to his vocal cords. "I don't need that. Steve's here." He turned his head and nosed against the scent glands at Steve's throat. Then he frowned. "Steve?"

"Yeah, Buck, I'm here," Steve said, his voice not quite steady. He looked at Dugan. 

"You both need omegas," Dugan hissed, and Steve was shaking his head curtly, denying, even before Bucky croaked out a "Fuck you,  _ Tim _ ."

"I was his omega," Steve said, and all of the men within earshot just gaped at him.

Steve pulled himself up to his full height, Bucky swaying against him, his nose turned toward Steve's scent glands. "It was—fuck. It sounds like bullshit, but I was his omega and now I'm an alpha." Steve swallowed, heartsick. None of this was how he'd envisioned any of this going. He’d imagined a chance to explain to Bucky—privately—what had happened to him, to see if Bucky even still wanted him now that he was a whole different designation as well as an entirely different shape. But with both of them going into rut, there wasn’t much of a chance to talk it out. They’d spend it together, or...not.

It wasn’t fair. There were people who frowned on same sex pairings, even the traditional alpha/omega ones, but almost no one accepted same designation pairings. And Steve had never heard of a situation like his—it wasn’t supposed to be possible. They’d started out one way and ended another, and now he’d have to ask Bucky if he was okay with it—if he still wanted Steve—under the most awkward circumstances ever.

"Steve," Bucky breathed against his neck, and he couldn't help the full body shiver that rolled through him. 

"Well, we need to get you somewhere where you can...." Dugan flushed an ugly brick red.

"Then get us somewhere," Bucky muttered, but of course it wasn't that easy. They were still a day out from the army camp, and Steve and Bucky spent most of it leaning against each other, getting more strongly into rut, because both of them were alphas now, and Jesus, it wasn't like Steve had never been to a queer club, but it was different, wasn't it? He glanced sideways at Bucky, who was breathing through his mouth as if that would keep the two of them from smelling each other. 

"Hang on, Buck," he said quietly to him. Bucky grunted back at him, his teeth gritted so hard that muscles stood out in his jaw.

"I'm tryin', Steve," he said, and they put foot after foot after foot until finally Steve saw canvas tents in front of them.

The remnants of the 107th cheered, and someone said, "Let's hear it for Captain America!" and then Peggy was there. 

Her nostrils flared as she took in the pair of them. "Oh," she said. " _ Oh. _ Steve, let me show you to a private tent."

"Thanks," Bucky gritted out, and her gaze paused on him, just for a moment, and then she was leading the two of them to a scent-blocked tent that wasn't nearly as good as a solid room, but that would have to do. It was at least far enough away from camp that they wouldn’t have to try to be quiet, and the filters woven into the fabric would keep the stink of their ruts from drifting to the camp. Steve had been hard for the better part of a day now, more or less, and he wanted to strip Bucky down and rub all of his naked skin all over Bucky's naked skin, and fuck, he must have thought that too enthusiastically, because her nose wrinkled at his scent.

"Sorry," Steve said, but he was incapable of embarrassment at the moment, only need.

"We'll talk later," Peggy said, and then she was ushering him in and tying the door closed behind them.

"Steve," Bucky said, and the hesitance in his voice broke something inside of Steve. If not his heart, then definitely a heart-adjacent area.

"Buck." He pulled him closer, nosed against Bucky's neck. Bucky closed his eyes. "We don't have to," Steve whispered. "If you don't want to—if you don't want—I'm different, I know I am..."

Bucky's eyes fluttered open again, and he frowned. 

"What the fuck are you trying to say?"

“We don’t have to—we don’t have to fuck. We can just ride it out together if you’d rather.” 

“Why the fuck would I want to do that?” Bucky said indignantly.

Steve waved a hand at his torso, so much bigger than it used to be, so unlike his former self. Bucky had used to fit the broad span of his hand between Steve's narrow shoulder blades, had wrapped his broad fingers around Steve's waist, and Steve... wasn't like that now. He didn't have an omega's slight proportions anymore, because he  _ wasn't  _ an omega anymore. The serum was supposed to make a battle-ready omega, but what it had done was turn him into an alpha; the platonic ideal of an alpha, in fact. Which was, well... it was what it was.

Steve had never wanted to be an alpha; he'd always wanted to be an omega, just healthier than he was. He'd hated the erraticness of his heats, the arrhythmia, the scoliosis, everything that made their neighbors look sideways at him when Bucky curved his hand over Steve's shoulder. He'd have been given the side-eye anyway—two men were never seen as ideal a pairing as a man and a woman—but his poor health had sidelined him from even the nursing positions that were open to omegas in the war effort. But, fuck, that didn't matter now. He blew out a breath.

“Steve,” Bucky said. “I’m not—it’s different, okay? You’re different. But we’ll figure it out. But you’ve gotta tell me—how?”

"I was trying to get a combat assignment."

Bucky blew a quick breath out of his nose, not quite a snort, but almost. "Fuck, Steve," he said, because they'd had dozens of conversations that weren't fights only because Bucky didn't disagree in general about omegas serving; just about Steve trying to personally break himself against his own body after he was 4Fed for even the medical support assignments that were all that was available for omegas.

"What happened anyway?" Bucky pulled himself up on Steve, yanking the tattered remains of his uniform to the side. Steve leaned back and groaned. His skin was on fire with wanting to be touched, and the way Bucky was looking at him didn't help. His eyes were wide, tracking over the new topography of Steve's torso, the swell of his chest, the hair that had grown back thicker than it had been before, the curve of his biceps. Steve's dick twitched, and of course his anatomy was changed here too. He could scent his own lust rising off of him like a cloud and Bucky breathed it in. His eyes dilated, the irises a thin ring of gray around his pupils, and he groaned and dropped his head to lick along Steve's skin.

"You gonna answer my question?" he mumbled against Steve's belly, and Steve tried to focus.

"They had a serum, to try to make combat-ready omegas. I volunteered to—to test it—ow!"

Bucky's licks had turned into a nip, and not a gentle one either. It hardly mattered; Steve was lit up like the fourth of July anyway, and the pain turned to desire quickly enough.

"You're such an idiot," Bucky said. "An experimental procedure? You could have died." 

Steve bit his lip. They had to talk about this. Bucky had said he didn't want a support omega, he'd said he wanted  _ Steve, _ but maybe that was just the oncoming rut talking. It had been hard enough as things were, back home, and now that Steve was an alpha too, that was a kind of queer that maybe Bucky wasn't into. "Do you still want me like this, Buck? You didn't sign on for this—"

Bucky made a sound halfway between a grunt like he'd been winded and a growl. He surged up Steve's body to bury his nose against Steve's throat, drawing in deep breaths against his scent glands. He grabbed Steve's hand and pulled it down to his crotch. Steve's breath caught at the feel of Bucky's cock, hot and rigid beneath his trousers. 

"Till the end of the line," Bucky said, "even when you're a complete asshole."

Steve arched his back, pressing as much of himself against Bucky as he could, wanting. "Yeah—" His own voice sounded breathless in his ears. "—but when we said that, we weren't figuring on stopping at this particular station."

"We're more to each other than just biology," Bucky said. It struck Steve in the heart, because of course that had always been true. Bucky sat up and straddled Steve in a quick, fluid motion. Both of them groaned as their cocks jutted up against each other. "I don't know what I have to do to convince—"

And then all the breath left him all at once in a small, wounded sound and he leaned down, turned Steve's head to the side, stroked over his unblemished throat, his unmarked scent gland, where once the perfect imprint of Bucky's teeth had told everyone whose Steve was.

"It's not—it's the serum, Buck. When it healed me, it healed all my scars, even that one." The scent coming off Bucky had gone from the familiar smell of his desire—which still hit Steve the same way it ever had, like whiskey in his blood—to the more astringent smell of distress. Steve hated it. He grabbed Bucky's hips, pulling him flush against him and tried to just feel how much he loved him, knowing it would flood his own smell. Bucky made another choked sound and Steve tightened his fingers on him, hard enough to bruise.

"You're just gonna have to mark me again," Steve said, as steadily as he could. "If you still want to."

Bucky slumped over him. "There's no  _ if  _ for me," he said against Steve's neck. "You're it. You'll always be it. What designation you are doesn't make any more difference to me than your allergies or your arrhythmia did. It doesn't make any more difference to me than it did to you. Remember?"

Steve ran his hands lightly down Bucky's sides, under his shirt, stroking more with the intent to comfort than arouse, but both of them shivered anyway. "We'll have to figure it out. It'll be different." 

Bucky made an interested noise and trailed his fingers over the curve of Steve's chest, rubbing gently at his nipple. Steve groaned. The repetitive motion had the flesh there peaking up against the pad of Bucky's fingertip, the drag against sensitive skin pulling a gasp out of his mouth.

"This is the same," Bucky said, his eyes flicking up to Steve's. Steve hoped he looked as hungry for Bucky as Bucky looked for him. "You still like this."

"Yeah." Steve's voice was breathy, like he'd been running. Bucky rolled his nipple between his finger and thumb, and Steve let his head fall back, against the padded bedroll. His skin felt hot and flushed with promise. "Fuck! Bucky..."

"Tell me what feels different." Bucky unbuttoned Steve's fly, and Steve couldn't help the needy moan that escaped him.

He tilted his hips so Bucky could get his pants off, and Bucky sucked in a breath. Steve looked down the length of his body. He was naked now, and Bucky still had all his clothes on, and Steve tugged distractedly at Bucky's green sweater, but Bucky shook his head. He dragged his fingertips lightly over Steve's cock, so much bigger than it used to be, with the loose skin at the base where his knot popped out—and wasn't that still so strange to think of.

He had a knot now, and where once his slick glands had eased the way for Bucky to fuck him, his body no longer produced the right hormones.

He'd already been hard from Bucky's scent and Bucky touching him, but he was aching now, dying for friction against his skin, but Bucky kept running the lightest touch up and down his length, skirting the head of his cock. "Does it feel different than it used to?"

Steve tried to summon up words. "Y-Yeah, some. The knot's different. It feels—" He gasped as Bucky wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, where the knot would come up. He could feel it, a different kind of pressure than the pleasure building in him.

"Does it feel good?" Bucky leaned down to kiss him and Steve arched up to meet him, gasping a  _ yes  _ into his mouth. He pulled at Bucky's sweater, sliding it up his sides, noting where the ribs were more prominent than he remembered. He'd look, in a moment, but for now it was enough to touch, to map Bucky the way he was being mapped in return, the changes in his body since the two of them had last been together. For all Steve's changes were more dramatic, Bucky was thinner, more muscular, the planes of him solid in different ways. Steve had never known another body the way he'd known Bucky's, and he wanted to learn him all over again. 

He got to Bucky's armpit and Bucky had to pull away long enough for Steve to pull the sweater over his shoulders. Bucky was trapped for a few seconds, and Steve looked his fill: his visible ribs, the familiar flat brown nipples surrounded by dark hair, the thin skin over his sternum. Steve wanted to taste it all, wanted to draw Bucky, wanted most of all to never be apart from him for that long again. 

"Do I still smell good to you?" Steve said when Bucky's head popped free of his shirt. Bucky lifted an eyebrow and tossed his shirt aside.

"Yeah." Bucky tucked his head into Steve's neck and inhaled. "Maybe it should be weird, because there's more—it's not the same. But you still smell like you."

Steve twisted so he could breathe in Bucky's scent, intense with arousal and the oncoming rut. "You smell good, too." Whatever else had changed about his body, it was still tuned to Bucky's, a compass needle that pointed in only one direction. "I want—" He undid Bucky's belt buckle and tugged at his pants. Bucky lifted his hips and between the two of them they stripped him. His cock was hard, flushed red, curving toward his belly at a familiar angle. Steve knelt to take off his boots and socks, his own prick bobbing uncomfortably with his movements, then tugged his feet free. 

Bucky lay spread out before him on the camp bed, naked as a jaybird except for his dog tags. He was too thin, dirty from the march, as was Steve, and bruised from whatever the Germans had been doing to him in that factory. He was the most beautiful sight Steve had ever seen, and now Steve was grateful beyond words for the eidetic memory the serum had given him; he'd be able to think back to this picture, Bucky alive and with him despite everything, for the rest of his life. 

He moved up Bucky slowly, running his hands up his calves, circling his knees, sliding over the long muscles of his thighs. Bucky's dick twitched, and Steve had to steady himself as the blood pulsed in his own cock. He was used to the cramps that had accompanied his heats; this slow-ramping up of desire was the same, a tide that would end up swamping him, but his body was different, so different. 

"Come here," Bucky said, and pulled him up and on top of him, so they were laying flush against each other. Both of them gasped, ragged sounds, as the movement pushed their cocks together, but for the moment at least, Bucky just tugged him closer and leaned forward to bury his nose against the scent gland at Steve's neck. "You really still want me to mark you?" 

"Yeah, Buck. I don't care if it's not something alphas do. I'm yours, mark me up however you want to." 

Bucky's arms tightened around him, and he drew in another long breath of Steve's scent. This close Steve could smell him too, the base scent that just meant Bucky, and the burned caramel scent of rut that was coming off both of them. "You should bite me back," Bucky said. "We could get rings, too." 

"Rings?" Steve said, because that was the easier part to address. "Kind of old-fashioned, though, isn't it?" 

"People aren't going to look at us and expect us to be together," Bucky said fiercely. "So yeah. I want rings. I want you to mark me, Steve. Make it so everyone knows." 

Steve couldn't help it; he rocked his hips forward. Bucky was holding on to him like he thought he'd vanish, like he might still be a dream, like he would never let go. Bucky kissed him, and a dam inside him broke. He was flooded with love, with want, with need a rising tide inside of him. "Yes," he said against Bucky's lips, "yes. Anything you want." 

Bucky groaned against him and dug his fingers into the meat of Steve's ass to pull him closer against him. "Just gotta figure out what the fuck that is." 

Steve stroked a hand down Bucky's belly, over the hairs between his navel and his cock, the soft skin. "I dunno, Buck, at least one of has some experience here."

Bucky sucked in a shuddering breath, his cock jumping even though Steve hadn't touched it yet. "Are you going to talk me through it? Tell me what to do?" His voice was a low growl, and it was Steve's turn to shiver. He guessed, according to biology and social mores, that they should have been having a territorial dispute about now, but it was the last thing on his mind.

"I thought you should fuck me, Buck," Steve said. Bucky closed his eyes and threw his head back.

"God, Steve." He opened his eyes. "Why does it matter? Neither one of us is gonna get slick any time soon."

"I know," Steve said. His face felt horribly red, but his dick was throbbing. He wrapped a hand around the base and squeezed, trying to stave off his want long enough to talk it through. Bucky's eyes followed the movement and he licked his lips. "I figure I've done it more, right? It should be easier even if I'm...different...than I used to be."

Everyone had slick glands, no matter what their designation, but only omegas had the correct hormones to actually produce slick. But Steve knew from careful experimentation with Bucky between heats that they felt good when touched no matter the designation. Bucky reached forward and touched Steve's cheek. Both of them were naked and hard and minutes away from fucking, but he leaned into the touch and he felt soft and tender. He was different,  _ Bucky  _ was different, but the thing between them was the same at its heart.

He leaned forward and kissed Bucky, and heat surged up his spine into his gut, his cock, every inch of skin all over his body.

"There's gotta be slick around here someplace, right?" Bucky said. Fine beads of sweat beaded his forehead, his upper lip. God, Steve wanted to lick them off. He made himself focus though, because if he started that, he wasn't going to stop, and as much as his body might think it wanted nothing more than to be railed into next week at the moment, his asshole would thank him later if they took just a little more time.

"Yeah, it's a heat tent, so..." Steve rolled just a little apart from Bucky, ignoring the probably-unconscious growl Bucky made. Steve dug into the nightstand next to the bed. gasping a little as his cock caught some friction from the rough cotton, army-issue sheets. He jumped a little as Bucky's hand caught the meat of his ass, digging in.

Finally Steve's fingers closed around a familiar tube; they'd used artificial slick before. Before the serum, Steve's body didn't always produce enough lubrication outside of heat, and besides, he'd fucked Bucky plenty of times—and even if his dick hadn't been as big as it was now, it had been big enough to hurt without something to ease the way. "Found it," he said out loud.

Bucky flipped him over, nosing at his stomach, rubbing the scent glands on his wrists along Steve's side, making a noise that was somewhere between a growl and a purr. To Steve's utter embarrassment, an answering noise rose in his chest. Bucky opened his eyes and looked up Steve's chest at him, his hands kneading at Steve's hips, his eyes dark with need.

"You're so fuckin' pretty," he said, and it was nothing he hadn't said before, but that was when Steve was a slip of a thing, and now he was a tank. Steve blushed—he could feel the heat in his cheeks, the sting of his skin as it spread down his chest.

"Yeah?" he said. "Even like this?"

Bucky growled again and surged up Steve's body to kiss him. He pinned Steve's wrists with one hand—Steve gasped at the pressure against the sensitive skin of his scent glands—and with the other hand, he pulled the tube of slick from Steve's unresisting grasp.

"No even about it." Bucky kissed him again, hard, and then kissed a trail over his jaw, down his neck. He kissed and licked at Steve's scent glands, nipping over where the scar used to be. Steve arched up helplessly, his cock swelling even more.

"Please, Bucky," he said, and he didn't know if he was begging to be fucked or to be marked. His knot ached, a strange unfamiliar pain that wanted pressure to ease it, but god, he wanted to be filled as well. He arched his back helplessly, that almost-growl still rumbling out of his chest.

"I've got you," Bucky said, his voice low and hoarse. He moved away from Steve's scent glands, and Steve whined, missing his mouth already. Bucky laughed, and the sound of it was like another hand stroking along Steve's skin. 

He eased Steve onto the thin pillows. It was nothing like the kind of den they'd made back in Brooklyn—all their pillows and the couch cushions besides, lined with every blanket they owned in the winter, soft with both of their scents—but it was theirs for now and Steve would take it. Bucky kissed down his chest, stopping to lick and suck at his nipples, but not for long; he followed the line of Steve's abs down to his navel, to the gold hairs leaning down to his cock.

Bucky pressed a kiss to the loose skin of Steve's knot, and Steve groaned. His skin felt too small, felt on fire.

Bucky uncapped the tube of slick and got his fingers wet. Steve spread his legs as far as he could, welcoming. Bucky's nostrils flared and he set his teeth against Steve's thigh and bit down gently. Steve threw his head back. His cock felt impossibly hard.

Bucky took the head of it into his mouth as he slid one finger into Steve's hole. The sound that came out of Steve's mouth was strangled but all he felt was relief. Bucky was tentative, gentler than he'd have been before, and Steve tried to concentrate enough to tell whether it felt different, but it was hard to focus when all he wanted was more, much more.

"It's fine," he panted out. "You can go faster."

Bucky came off his dick to shoot him an unimpressed look, even though his cock had to be aching just as much as Steve's. "You done this since you got big?"

"Of course not." Steve tried to glare at him, but Bucky crooked his finger and grazed one of Steve's slick glands and Steve jumped like he'd been jolted with electricity. They might not get him wet anymore, but god, they were still sensitive, still felt good.

"Then shut up and let me take my time." Bucky stroked over his glands again and Steve's cock leaked precome. Bucky's nostrils flared.

"Sw—sweet talker," Steve managed to get out.

"So sue me, I don't want to hurt you." Bucky slid in another finger, slowly, and Steve felt the stretch of it, but it wasn’t painful, even if he wasn’t opening up easily the way he had before.

"Doesn't hurt," he said. "Feels good. Bucky." It was a plea; he wanted Bucky in him. He wanted him close, wanted to kiss him.

"And I want to make sure it keeps feeling good." Bucky started to work his fingers back and forth, brushing up against Steve's slick glands with every movement. Steve felt himself welcoming the touch, his muscles relaxing. At the same time, his cock was as hard as it had ever been, and his breath was reduced to panting gasps. His face was hot with a flush that was surely spread all over his torso.

"Please," Steve said. "I don't want to wait any longer."

Bucky looked up at him, his eyes dark with want, sweat beading along his forehead and temple. "Okay," he said, "but you tell me if it hurts."

"I will," Steve said.

Bucky arranged Steve how he wanted him, splayed out on his back, legs spread wide. Bucky ran his hands up Steve's thighs, his gaze darting down as the muscles quivered. He licked his lip and reached for the tube of slick. Steve didn't whine, exactly, but he made a noise deep in his throat.

Bucky squeezed slick from the tube into his hand, and then ran his hand over his cock and groaned brokenly as he spread it down his length.

"Yes," Steve said, "come on."

"Impatient," Bucky grunted, but he leaned over Steve and rubbed the head of his cock over Steve's hole. It wasn't the same as it had been, but Steve groaned anyway. God, he wanted him, wanted to be full almost as much as he wanted friction on his dick, pressure around his knot.

"Take a breath," Bucky said, and when Steve did, he pushed in.

"Ah," Steve said, and tilted his head back. "Fuck—Bucky, it's—it's so good." And it was; Steve was tighter than he'd been as an omega, and the stretch, the fullness felt more acute, not as easy as it once had been, but he wanted him, wanted the slight discomfort and the greater pleasure.

Bucky slid forward slowly to give Steve time to accommodate his girth. Steve clutched at him, trying to use his hands to speed him, but Bucky grit his teeth and stayed slow. When Bucky finally seated himself fully, Steve felt sweat prick all over his body.

"Is it good?" Bucky leaned forward, his teeth sunk in his own lip, one hand brushing tenderly at Steve's hair, and it was so much better than good. 

"Yes," Steve managed. "Fuck, Bucky, it's—ah—it's amazing." 

They'd fucked like this before even in the worst part of Steve's heats, face to face instead of the more traditional position of Steve with his face down and ass up, because they both liked the intimacy of it. And god, it felt good now, the press of Bucky's body against his, his cock sliding between them, not getting enough pressure, but the friction sparking electricity along his spine.

Bucky leaned down to lick at Steve's scent glands, and the change in position sent Bucky's cock dragging over his prostate. Between the stimulation at his neck and inside of him, Steve felt like he might die of pleasure, strung out between too much and not enough.

Who was he kidding? It was definitely not enough.

"Please," Steve said, and he didn't even know what he was asking for. 

"Yes," Bucky said,  _ "yes," _ and he sped up, thrusting into Steve faster. Both of them were panting, gasping against each other, and Steve felt like a completed circuit, every part of his body brimming with electricity.

"Steve, ah, Steve," Bucky said, and he stuttered against Steve's hips, and Steve felt his rim stretch exquisitely, almost to the point of pain, but even more to the point of pleasure, as Bucky came and his knot popped inside Steve.

Steve's body convulsed, his muscles tightening instinctively, and his own knot popped. He teetered on the brink of discomfort, feeling horribly unbalanced for a moment, but then Bucky pulled them to their sides and got his hands on Steve.

"Shh, I've got you, sweetheart," he whispered, and wrapped one hand around Steve's knot, squeezing and pressing in mimicry of a body around it, and Steve felt relief for a moment, followed by an intense pleasure that engulfed his entire body, his ass still full of Bucky, his nipples aching points of want, and his cock hot, from knot to tip, as he pulsed and came in Bucky's grasp.

And came—he spilled over in spurts that kept coming as Bucky worked over his knot, reaching up with his other hand to slowly jerk along Steve's length. "Jesus Christ," Steve said as his cock throbbed again and spilled out another line of come.

"Come on, never tell me you haven't touched yourself since you got all alpha'ed up," Bucky murmured.

"Yeah, but it wasn't—ah,  _ fuck _ —it wasn't like this." Steve nuzzled into Bucky's neck, breathing in the scent of him, as his orgasm finally slowed. He was still hard though, his knot still big under Bucky's comforting touch. He'd known from Bucky that an untouched knot was uncomfortable, but he hadn't really understood until he'd experienced it for himself the first time he'd jerked off after the serum. He'd nearly sobbed with how wrong and incomplete he'd felt until he could get a hand on it.

"Yeah, rut's something else," Bucky agreed. He left one hand on Steve's knot and wiped the other on the sheet, then slipped it over Steve's waist. Steve's leg under Bucky was uncomfortable now, but he guessed they weren't going anywhere until Bucky's knot subsided.

"Bite me the next round?" Steve didn't mean to sound shy, but it came out more uncertain than he thought. Maybe some part of him still didn't believe that Bucky really wanted him like this.

"Of course, sweetheart," Bucky said. He reached out and ran his thumb over Steve's scent gland, and to Steve's surprise, his cock twitched again at how good it felt. He had the feeling that if he leaned into the sensation, he could probably get hard again, but he just laid back, catching his breath, stroking his hand gently down Bucky's side. The rut wouldn't give them too many chances to just look at each other like this, and it was reassuring to parts of him that he hadn't realized were worried to see the warmth and affection in Bucky's eyes, still loving him after all of this.

When both of their knots subsided, they took the chance to eat and drink and clean themselves off a little.Steve fussed about Bucky getting enough to eat without even realizing he was doing it until Bucky looked at him, half-amused, half-annoyed, and said, "You don't even know how you're coming across right now, do you?"

Steve sat up, his dog tags hitting his chest, halfway through refilling Bucky's cup with water. "What am I doing?"

"You're being pretty stereotypically alpha, taking care of me like this." Bucky shot him a wicked grin, and Steve laughed. He'd try to ease up, and he'd never say it out loud, but he thought it probably wasn't so much an alpha instinct as the sight of Bucky's ribs and the healing scrapes along his face that had him trying to feed him, gently wiping a damp cloth over his body to clean him up.

Steve didn't really feel the urge to nest as strongly as he had when he'd been an omega, but they rearranged the blankets and pillows on the bed so they could burrow into them anyway. They'd smell very thoroughly of both of them by the time this was over.

Before long there was no time for any more domesticity; the urge to fuck was back for both of them. Steve barely had time to finish getting the bed arranged how he wanted before Bucky looked at him, growling, and Steve's chest expanded with a low rumble in return.

"Christ," Bucky said, his pupils blown wide. "I didn't know that was a thing that did it for me."

Steve rumbled again, his nostrils flaring to take in Bucky's happy, turned-on scent. He stretched himself out over the bed, arms in front of him, hips canted back toward Bucky.

"Oh no you don't, Rogers," Bucky said. "I want you in me this time."

The thought of that hit Steve like a ton of bricks, sending his heart racing and getting his dick from interested to rock-hard.

"Fuck, Bucky, are you sure?"

"Damn right I am. Just be gentler with me than you are to yourself, can't believe how big you are now."

Steve blushed, but it wasn't like he could deny it. He found the tube of slick and got his fingers good and wet, then did exactly as Bucky asked. He laid him on the bed at first, so he could play with his dick as he gently worked his hole open. He went slowly, loving the way Bucky moaned and writhed on the bed as he found his glands and then his prostate. As Bucky relaxed, his fingers went in easier and easier, until they both thought he was ready.

Steve got on the bed, and coaxed Bucky into his lap. Bucky slid down slowly onto him, and Steve fought to stay still, to let Bucky go at his own pace until he was fully seated. They both groaned, leaning forward to let their foreheads touch as they both adjusted to the feeling. Bucky's body was hot and tight around Steve, and he felt white-edged with pleasure, mouthing soundlessly at Bucky's neck, over his scent glands.

"Jesus," Bucky said breathlessly. Steve pushed into him gently, and at first it was slow and sweet, but it didn't stay that way long. Steve picked up the pace, Bucky rocking down to meet him, and Steve's mouth was at Bucky's neck, licking and sucking at his scent gland until Bucky said, "Yes, do it, Steve."

Steve got a hand on Bucky's cock, stroking him in time with their thrusts, and then he did as he was told, biting down on Bucky's neck, marking him as his own. His teeth pierced the skin, and Bucky came. Steve slid his hand down around his knot and pressed, not wanting him to feel that wanting, unbalanced sensation for even a second. The metal taste of blood flooded Steve's mouth, and his cock throbbed as his knot popped and he came.

God, it was intense, the feel of Bucky's muscles clenching around the sensitive skin of his knot.

"Oh fuck," Bucky said. "Christ, that's big."

Steve licked over the wound he'd left on Bucky's throat. "You okay?"

Bucky laughed. "I'm really good. 'S just surprising."

"You feel amazing." Steve rolled his hips again, making them both gasp. He kissed Bucky's neck one more time and then tilted his own head back to expose his scent glands. "My turn, come on."

"You're so bossy," Bucky said. "That didn't change." But he licked over Steve's neck. Steve's cock twitched again at the feel of it, making Bucky moan before he said, "Really?"

"Can't help it," Steve said. "You feel good."

Bucky leaned forward and licked and nipped at Steve's throat until he was panting beneath him. "This knot's never going to go down if you keep that up," Steve managed to gasp.

In response, Bucky sank his teeth into the sensitive flesh of Steve's gland. It felt good, pain and pleasure at once, but more importantly, the knowledge that Bucky was claiming Steve, marking him as his for the world to see. Steve wasn't fool enough to think it would be easy, not two alphas together, but as long as they had each other, he could face anything. 

For three days, he didn't have to think about any of it except the two of them. He had the stamina that the serum had given him in additition to the all-consuming desire of rut, and they made a game try of figuring out all the ways two alphas could give it to each other: with hands and mouths, between clenched thighs, cocks held together with their hands looped around them both, knots pressed together, in addition of course to fucking. Steve hoped they'd have a lifetime together to keep figuring out, but when they eventually were forced to leave the tent, it would be to war, and he was under no illusions that either of their lifetimes were guaranteed to be long.

When Steve woke up the fourth day and was able to think about something other than his dick, he knew they were past the worst of it. They still had to get themselves fit for society. He pulled out some of the rations and set up breakfast while he waited for Bucky to wake up. The filters in the tent walls would absorb most of the smell, but he had to strip their nest and seal in a back to be laundered—once Bucky woke up, anyway.

He looked over at Bucky, still sleeping, burrowed in the blankets that smelled like the two of them, like their coming together, and couldn't stop the smile that crept across his face. If they were home, in Brooklyn, he'd leave the nest for a few days, as long as they didn'thave company coming, and the two of them would burrow in over the next few days, maybe listen to the radio or read a book to each other, one of those pulps that Bucky liked so much, or one of the radical magazines Steve subscribed to, maybe get in an extra fuck or two, slow and leisurely the way that heat or rut didn't allow. They didn't have the time to do that here, but Steve couldn't help but be grateful for what they'd had. 

He'd thought Bucky was dead—and they still might die, if they were going to fight the way he hoped he might be able to after all of this—but he was alive and he was Steve's and Steve didn't think he'd ever seen anything so beautiful as the sweep of Bucky's closed lashes, his hair dark against the pillow, the bruises on his face faded so much that Steve wouldn't have been able to see them before the serum. The mark on his neck, a perfect impression of Steve's teeth, red, but healing. Steve touched his own neck, pressed briefly against his own bite, relished the thrill of the arpeggio of pleasure/pain that played down his spine. 

When he looked back to Bucky, Bucky's eyes were open, even if only barely, heavy-lidded and watching Steve. "Looks pretty sappy, Steve, touching your mating bite," he said, his voice a croak.

"Glad to have it back," was all Steve said, but he couldn't stop his voice from shaking, a little. He'd thought it was gone for good, thought he'd never have the chance to get it back, and here they were.

Bucky sat up and pushed a hand through his hair. "I feel like we're through it. You?"

"Yeah." Steve cleared his throat. "I got breakfast ready."

Bucky leaned back against the bedclothes they'd shortly have to clear. "All right, take care of me then, alpha."

Steve's face burned, and he was certain he was red all over, but he didn't let it stop him bringing Bucky breakfast, and Bucky just smirked.

Between the two of them, though, they got the scent blocking candle going, bundled the dirtied linens into the laundry bag, wiped clean everything they could, and tied back the door and windows of the tent to let the fresh forest air blow the scent of their ruts into the woods. Steve tucked the half-used tube of slick—their third—into his pocket, just in case they got a chance to use it later—hope sprang eternal. Then he pulled Bucky to him, drawing him in with his hands on his hips. Bucky melted against him, and Steve kissed along his neck, over his mark. 

There was a creek nearby, and the two of them were able to clean themselves off more thoroughly, shivering in the cold water and splashing each other like assholes to make the other yell and retaliate. Someone had left a pack with clean uniforms outside the tent at some point, which Steve was grateful for at the same time that he keenly hoped they had come while he and Bucky were sleeping, not fucking. Finally, washed up and presentable, and the tent as clean as they could leave it, they made their way back to camp.

The collar of Steve's dress shirt scraped against his almost-healed mark, and he couldn't stop touching it. "Stop it," Bucky said after the third or fourth time, laughing.

"Can't help it," Steve said. They were still out of sight of the camp, no one watching, and Bucky pulled him in for a quick kiss.

"I don't want to," he said, "but we gotta behave ourselves."

"I know." Steve took his hand and squeezed, then let go. "We'll figure it out."

They were spotted coming back into camp by a private, who told them they were wanted in Colonel Phillips's office as soon as possible. It looked much the same as the last time Steve had been there, only days ago; the maps were different, however. The 107th had been retrieved. 

"Congratulations, Rogers," Phillips said. "You've received an on-the-field promotion. You're an actual captain now." Steve raised an eyebrow, stunned, but Phillips wasn't done. "You're going to be leaving a small group for precision strikes against Hydra. I presume that won't be a problem." Steve exchanged a quick glance with Bucky; Steve at least was already thinking of some of the men who'd stood out in the escape from the factory. "As to your unconventional relationship...." Phillips sighed. "Barnes. Your experiences at the factory could get you an honorable discharge. You could go home."

"Thank you, sir," Bucky said, "but I'm needed here." 

"That's what I thought you'd say." Phillips let his gaze travel back and forth between the two of them. Steve hoped he wasn't about to say anything about perversion; he'd hate to have to deck a superior officer. "Your situation is unique," Phillips finally said. "None of us could have expected the serum to have this effect."

"Sir—" Steve began, but Phillips glared at him.

"Unique is also complicated. People don't need complicated right now. They need simple. You'll both go on suppressants—that's standard for alphas in the army. Scent blockers too. As far as the general public is concerned, Captain America is a red-blooded, unattached alpha."

"Make sure his uniform has a high collar," Bucky muttered. His scent had gone faintly acrid. Steve was sure his own was just as bad.

"Just watch yourselves in public," Phillips said. "What you get up to in private is your own business. Agent Carter will be coordinating with you as to your missions. We're already putting together a team of the best men."

"With all due respect, sir, so am I," Steve said.

"Of course you are," Phillips said. "Talk to Carter about it. Now get out of my office."

~o~

The thing about their unit was that none of them were idiots and all of them had been with them on the march back from Kreishberg to the camp. Steve made a half-hearted attempt to pretend that he and Bucky were nothing more than commanding officer and sergeant, but after a day of it, Dugan came up to him and said, loud enough for everyone to hear, "You can do what you have to for Phillips, but you don't have to try to fool us," and Bucky let out a sigh of relief, that Steve echoed once the shock had worn off. 

Nobody said as much directly, but comments dropped over time gave Steve the picture that all of them felt that the man who'd shared their cell and the man who'd pulled them out of it could get up to whatever they wanted as far as they were concerned. In time, Steve thought, it wasn't just that they didn't care, but that they were actively happy that Steve and Bucky had found each other, and found each other again. It meant that when they rendezvoused with the regular army, Steve and Bucky had to be on their best behavior, but when they were on missions with their men, or if it was just Peggy, they could stop pretending and be free about what they meant to each other.

They had just raided a Hydra base in which there had been prisoners, the kind of prisoners who had been hurt, the kind that left Bucky jumpy and ill-tempered, snapping at Steve and the men. They all understood it, but it didn't mean Steve had to like it and when Bucky excused himself, supposedly to look for more firewood, Morita heaved a sigh of relief, but Steve went to find him.

"It's not that I don't know I'm being an asshole," Bucky said as Steve caught up to him.

"You don't have to explain it to me." Steve would never— _ could  _ never—forget the machines in the factory, or the scrapes on Bucky's face, or the track marks from where they'd pumped him full of some unknowable drugs. He stretched his arms out wide, and Bucky sighed and folded himself into his embrace.

"I don't mean to, it's just—it could've been me. It could've been all of us." Steve regretted their scent blockers a lot of the time, but never more so than right now, when it would've been a comfort to both of them to just take in each other's scents. Bucky turned his head into Steve's neck and breathed in anyway.

"It wasn't, though." Steve took a breath, and hoped he wasn't about to say the exact wrong thing. "And I'm not glad you were captured, but I'm glad we're here, together. If we've got to be fighting a war, there's no one I'd rather fight it with."

Bucky knows into Steve's neck, gently bit over the faint, silvery mark of his mating bite. "Don't tell me about that, tell me what we're going to do when all of this is over."

"Well," Steve said, "the first thing we're gonna do is go see your family, and won't they be surprised."

Bucky snorted faintly. That hurdle was one they'd have to deal with, but neither one of them wanted to imagine what Winifred Barnes would say when she saw what Steve had had done to himself.

"The next thing we're gonna do is find a place, nicer than our old one. Maybe a little bit closer to your ma's, or wherever Becca settles down." Steve went on, spinning a picture the best he could of the life they might have together, even though he knew it wouldn't be as easy as that. But however they had to do it, he knew they would build a home together, so he tried to put that into his voice as he told Bucky about it.

Steve knew he was already home, as long as he was where Bucky was. It didn't matter what they had to do, or what their designations were. If Bucky wanted to shoot up nearly a foot and a hundred pounds next time, Steve would go along for the ride until the end of it. No matter where they ended up or how, as long as they were together, he would feel the same as he did in this moment: happy.

~o~

  
  



End file.
